"The Comtesse suggested that you might need someone to show you around."Clegg looked up. The man was neatly, almost fastidiously, dressed. His hair sl...ck, greased, flat against his scalp almost as though it was painted on. A thin moustache stretched across his upper lip."Eduardo," the man said extending a hand. "Mr Clegg?"Clegg shook it. "Freddie. Call me Freddie. Would you like a drink?" he said, waving to the girl behind the bar."I'll take a vinhos verdes," Eduardo responded as she arrived at. A rubber ball was strapped between her lips. She could feel and she could hear and the absence of sight heightened both those senses. Earlier that evening the two women had been in the sitting room of the flat overlooking the garden, the late evening sun gilding the leaves on the trees. They had had a glass of wine each as they unwound from their separate, busy days. Friday evenings were their close time, their period of togetherness, reserved exclusively for each other. She had looked at her. More

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